


Paper Hearts

by DaftPunk_DeLorean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, McHanzo - Freeform, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9698027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaftPunk_DeLorean/pseuds/DaftPunk_DeLorean
Summary: Jesse has never given a valentine. Hanzo has never received one. There's a first time for everything.





	

“…Gotdamn ridiculous,” Jesse muttered, unfolding his seventh paper heart and frowning at the lopsided mess. He crumpled up the red paper and threw it into the trash with the rest of the failures, sighing with frustration before picking up the scissors and trying again. He was doing this for Hanzo, he reminded himself. Hanzo had never received a Valentine in his entire life. 

The problem was, Jesse had never given one. 

The childish paper hearts, the flowers, chocolates… all that ridiculous nonsense that persisted through the years, had somehow curled its grip around his sad little heart, and made him want to tell Hanzo what he’d meant to say for weeks now. Always at the tip of his tongue, halting sentences that stuttered into silence, loaded moments waiting for something to be said, hanging in the air and pushing at them until it became uncomfortable.

Yet Jesse struggled to say it. He was a coarse and unlikable loner, and he still fought to understand why someone as goddamned elegant and restrained as Hanzo would waste his time with him. Maybe Hanzo liked the way he could, quite literally, let his hair down (good lordy that _hair_ ) when they tumbled into bed together. Maybe it was that Jesse never saw Hanzo smile outside their bedrooms, but shared that affection with Jesse alone. Or the way that Hanzo slept so softly, curled against Jesse’s side, as though he’d dropped every wall he’d ever built.

Jesse couldn’t imagine that he was good enough to do all that for Hanzo. But first it was endless flirting. Then it was Hanzo knocking on Jesse’s door with a humiliated and shaken expression, asking for a bit of company after a nightmare. A few times of that, and Jesse just pulled Hanzo into bed with him and held him until he unclenched and finally slept. 

But Hanzo kept coming back, slipping into his room in the dead of night regardless of his ability to sleep. His bare feet were cold when he slowly crawled into bed with Jesse and kissed his forehead, shushing him gently when Jesse mumbled. 

It was weeks of that before either of them made a move. That night, Hanzo’s forehead kiss was hesitant, then moved to a kiss on the cheek, and after a long moment, to Jesse’s lips, sleepy and sweet and completely catching Jesse so far off guard that for a minute, he thought he might have fallen off a train. Their chaste kiss bloomed into something with clear intent, although they didn’t take it any further.

A month more of Hanzo’s reserved little endearments, and Jesse tugged him back into bed in the streaming light of early morning, and they made slow, soft love while Jesse kissed his own endearments into Hanzo’s flushed skin.

“Sweet as honey…” he panted against Hanzo’s collarbone. “Gonna be my little darlin’ from now on,” he sighed into Hanzo’s raised hip. And when Hanzo came with a soft, unrestrained gasp and exhaled Jesse’s first name for the first time, Jesse knew he was a goner. He stared hungrily at Hanzo’s blushed face and pink, pretty lips and realized his was quite a bit more than smitten. 

Which meant that when all the muttering about this damned holiday started up again, Jesse paid attention, instead of ignoring it. He couldn’t fuckin’ say the words, but he could make sure Hanzo knew he felt them. 

So he struggled, feeling silly and graceless as he screwed up heart after heart, his mood turning black as he thought on the irony of the symbolism. He wanted to finish before night, when Hanzo would inevitably find his way into Jesse’s arms, and whisper his name in a way that gave Jesse the palpitations, calling him “my dearest,” which was damn near a declaration of eternal love, coming from someone as reserved as Hanzo. 

But finally, around twilight, he had cut the perfect heart. Immediately, a smile bloomed over Jesse’s face, and he looked at the heart with satisfaction, right up until an ash from his cigar dropped on it and burned a hole through the paper near the point. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. He was about to throw it away in a fit, then sighed.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, digging around for the white pen he’d found at a store, specifically for this purpose. He wrote the short message slowly in the white ink, his script neat and old-fashioned. He folded the heart back up and slid it carefully into a matching red envelope, then set it on the pillow beside his that Hanzo used, with (and he would kill himself later for being so stupidly sentimental) a creamy white gardenia from the tree down the road. Then he sat up in bed with a measure of whisky and waited, smoking his cigar in the dim light, watching the cherry glow as he sucked in the smooth, bitter smoke. 

Predictably, Hanzo snuck in just before midnight, shutting the door carefully. 

“Jesse. You are still awake,” he whispered when he turned, moving to the bed, sitting on the edge in just his loose pants. Not for the first time, Jesse took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, before stubbing out his cigar and grinning.

“You know, darlin’, I’m always awake when you sneak in here like a cat trying to steal the cream,” he murmured in a slow drawl. Hanzo huffed his version of a short, soft laugh, wrapping itself right around Jesse’s heart.

“I find I like to pretend that I can still surprise you,” Hanzo whispered with a little smile, crawling closer and upsetting the envelope and flower. He looked down, once again surprised. “What is this?”

Jesse smiled in the dim lamplight, taking a sip of his whisky before setting it aside. 

“Well. It so happens to be a holiday.”

Hanzo’s brow furrowed when he picked up the envelope. 

“What holiday?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

At that, Hanzo looked up at Jesse with slightly widened eyes and parted lips, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Are you… _romancing_ me?” he asked, picking up the flower and sniffing it appreciatively. Jesse rolled his eyes, flushing and hiding behind his glass again.

“Well I’m _tryin’_ to, if you’d just open the damn envelope and quit lookin’ at me like I mean t’poison you,” he said impatiently, which drew a smile to Hanzo’s lips, causing him to immediately slow his pace and take his time sniffing the flower and settling himself beside Jesse, until Jesse couldn’t take it. “Now you stop needlin’ me! I know what you’re doing!” he burst out in a quiet hiss, eliciting another soft huff-laugh from Hanzo.

Finally Hanzo got to the envelope, opened the heart, and then stared at it for a full minute. Jesse bounced his leg the whole time. Hanzo poked his finger through the burn hole with a barely audible snort, turning the heart over to look at the back.

“Well now?” Jesse whispered, nervous. Hanzo swallowed, and Jesse could hear a click in his throat.

_“‘I ain’t so good at writing sonnets, and I’ve never given a Valentine. But dammit Hanzo, I can’t go any longer without saying it somehow. I love you.’”_ Hanzo read quietly out loud, and Jesse wanted to die and be laid in earth. He looked at his whisky glass, silent, until to his surprise, Hanzo carefully straddled his lap and tugged the glass from his hands and set it aside. 

“Jesse. My dearest,” Hanzo whispered, and Jesse slid his hands up Hanzo’s thighs the rest at his hips, looking up at his dark eyes and reserved smile. Hanzo gently brushed a lock of hair off Jesse’s forehead. 

“Yeah?”

“I find that I-“ he started, then leaned forward as if to kiss Jesse, only grazing his lips before kissing his way to Jesse’s ear. “I find that I love you, as well.” 

Jesse shuddered a soft laugh as goosebumps skittered down his spine. 

“Well ain’t that somethin’,” he murmured, kissing the curve of Hanzo’s throat, sliding his hands into Hanzo’s waistband.

“Indeed,” Hanzo whispered back with a full, heartfelt smile, and then they didn’t need words to say the beautiful things they wanted to say.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh! Thank you for reading my very first ever OW/McHanzo fic! Blame Jezibelle for pushing me down the slippery slope! Thank you for all your help and input and encouragement, Jezi!


End file.
